


Holly and Snake

by Raven_Rein



Category: Zero: Shisei no Koe | Fatal Frame III: The Tormented, 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Crossover, Ghosts, Grief, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Investigation, M/M, Mystery, Nightmare, Slow Burn Romance, Supernatural Elements, Suspence, fast-paced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Rein/pseuds/Raven_Rein
Summary: When a series of disappearances took Yokohama by storm, the Armed Detective Agency was tasked to solve the case and stop the disappearance from continuing. But without realizing it, one of their member has fallen to the curse, facing a fate worse than death in order to see a loved one's smile once more.Racing with time and the haze of dream, Chuuya has to find a way to break the curse, before he lost Dazai to the nightmares.[No prior knowledge of Fatal Frame's Lore is needed to understand the story.]





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Bungou Stray Dogs-oriented fic, crossover with Fatal Frame, no prior knowledge of FF franchise needed. I will try my best to keep regular updates. What else do people usually put in their notes other than that?

_._

_._

_._

_Sleep, Priestess, lie in peace_

_Sleep, Priestess, lie in peace_

_If you cry, the boat you ride, the last trip to the other side_

_Once you get there, the sacred marks you bear_

_They shall be peeled off, should you fail to lie still_

.

.

.

 

“That’s morbid.” Atsushi said with scrunched eyebrows, expression part apprehensive and part scared. “Sacred mark peeled off… what does that mean?”

“Aww, but don’t you think the morbid part of it makes the song pretty?” Dazai asked gleefully. The dusty wooden floor creaked as Dazai skipped happily, jumping off two raised steps so he could stand right in front of his protégé who immediately stiffened.

“W-what is it, Dazai-san?” Atsushi asked nervously, bad feeling dawning when he saw the mischievous smile spreading on the older detective’s face.

 “I believe that the sacred mark mentioned is the tattoos on their skin… so if they’re talking about peeling them off…” he leered at Atsushi’s gradually dawning horror, face paling and shoulder began to shake when he realized the implication.  “You know, Atsushi-kun…” Dazai grinned as he leaned closer to Atsushi’s face, voice low as to incite fear “they say that the Priestesses who died like that still haunt this shrine… and if you come at night you’ll hear them saying…”

“…give me back my skin…”

Atsushi shrieked, ducking down so he could curl into a small, shaking ball on the dirty wooden floor. Yosano, who just whispered the words breathily into Atsushi’s ear in her best creepy voice, returned Dazai’s grin.

Behind her, Tanizaki who watched the whole thing unfold just chuckled weakly, seemingly sympathizing with the poor boy. Upon closer inspection, Dazai could see his knees shaking, clearly affected by the story himself. Just as he and Yosano shared a look that agreed to mess with the red-haired boy next, a decisive snap of camera and a growling noise caught their attention.

“If you have time to screw around how about helping the investigation?” Kunikida snapped at them from where he was, taking a photograph of what would be hearth a long time ago, now ruined by time and element. It was made dangerous by beams that precariously dangled down a meter above where fire would have been lit. “Damn it, why does the Agency only have lazy asses like you lot working for it. It’s a miracle we can pull through for so long.” He grumbled to himself, highly irritated.

Yosano and Dazai shared a look to each other, despite the low voice they can hear what the other detective was saying. Breaking into a smile, Yosano shrugged, followed by Dazai’s chuckle, both of them trash-talking their colleague silently through their eyes.

“Well what are you waiting for?! Go to work!” Kunikida hollered again.

With a chorus of agreement, the two adult dispersed, leaving Tanizaki to help his co-worker to his feet. The two teens stuck by each other’s side for the rest of the journey. If one ask, they’ll answer it’s to defend themselves against the two mischievous adults but the creep factor of the ruined mansion was also a reason why they found themselves joined at the hips.

“Still… this is rather amazing.” Dazai said as he ran his fingers on a wooden wall, staring up a large hole on the ceiling that let the light of noon to stream in, shining on the disturbed motes of dust “How old is this structure again?”

“The Kuze Shrine’s last documented ceremony was two hundred years ago.” Kunikida answered as he carefully peeked through the lenses of his camera, fiddling with the focus so he could take a good picture of the gray, dry vegetation growing through the cracks on the floor. “It seems like a horrible accident happened back in 1860 that forced the family to seal it. It was forgotten afterward and left to rot.” A click of shutter and Kunikida was sighing in satisfaction.

“Mmmm… I wonder what sort of accident happened…” Dazai hummed, lifting his own camera. Peeking through the viewfinder he snapped pictures after pictures.

Clicking the shutter once, Kunikida straightened, eyes closed as he sighed in irritation. He tried to muffle his mounting frustration before he blurted out, “Oi, Dazai. Don’t just snap pictures randomly!”

Dazai, who was well on his way to snapping his fifty-something picture in the span of two minutes, looked back at him with a faux innocent look. “Eeh? But everything is so interesting here!”

“We’re not here to have fun, dolt. Remember our investigation first!” he growled.

“Kunikida-kun is so uptight. That’s why you couldn’t get a girlfriend!”

As they watched the two detectives bicker, Tanizaki and Atsushi flashed an exasperated grin to each other.

“Aah… we better start to explore as well, Atsushi-kun.” Tanizaki suggested, lifting the digital camera in his hand. “Do you have a camera of your own?”

“Oh, no. Kunikida-san said I’m just here to observe the correct method of investigation and learn from it.” He said with a chuckle “I think it’s because the last time I was assigned to learn from an investigation it went… a little… well…” the mental image of scary men being pulverized by street sign returned to Atsushi’s mind, making him sigh while the smile still in place as if he couldn’t decide what expression he should be wearing.

“Oh, you mean that one with Kenji-kun, yeah. It was partly my fault for not going with you.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault! I’m just a bit not used to investigation in the first place and it seemed like Kunikida-san decided that method’s not going to work for me.”

“That method won’t work for anyone but Kenji-kun.” Yosano added, walking toward them in her heels. “I guess you can say it’s his special way of doing things. Are you going to start taking pictures?”

“Ah, yes.” Tanizaki smiled uneasily “Although this place is a bit scary even in daylight… I’m a bit worried”

“Do you know about the urban legend, Tanizaki-kun.” Yosano began, face frozen in an off-putting smile.

“What… are you talking about, sensei?” Atsushi asked, already having a bad feeling.

“They said that you can see ghosts through pictures, you know? Since taking a picture of someone will suck out some of their soul, taking a picture of a ghost meant that a part of them is going to be in the picture… that you will take home.” She grinned “And then… when night comes…”

“W-when night comes?”

“That piece of soul will call the rest of the spirit and it’ll haunt you. Scratch the walls of your bedroom and you’ll wake up to fingers. On. Your. Throat.” She whispered the last part, enjoying how the boys seemed like one scare away from fainting.

But the moment was broken by a loud holler as Kunikida once again tried to strangle his partner, who seemed far too happy with having two hands squeezing his throat mercilessly.

“Or you can just copy Dazai and be happy about being throttled.” Yosano giggled as they watched the duo’s antics. Finally having enough, Kunikida let him go with a growl.

“Start taking this seriously, idiot. Life is at stake here.” He huffed angrily and stormed off to take pictures of the moss growing on the corner of the room.

“Aye, aye sir.” Dazai gave him a mock salute and turned around to a side corridor, humming as he began to fiddle with the camera.

Atsushi sighed. He turned away when Tanizaki touched his shoulder gently, maneuvering them to another room where they could start taking pictures and notes. Frowning, he cast his eyes around the ruined room, sunlight pouring in through the gaps and cracks in the ceiling.

They were here for an investigation, but he was barely able to keep himself from bolting. The air seemed wrong here somehow even though he couldn’t quite explain why. The very atmosphere was heavy and the sunlight couldn’t penetrate the darkness that writhed on the corner of his eyes. He assured himself that they were just illusion from his own paranoia, but the mansion made the Tiger restless inside of him.

Frowning, the boy glanced around the room they were in. The smell of moss and old, rotting wood permeate the still air that hasn’t been breathed in for a long time. There was something strange about the broken walls and cracked floors; the hair on the back of his neck stood whenever his eyes strayed to the darkness of the corridor where Dazai’s taking pictures, the second level where they couldn’t go to because of the rotting stairs and the space beneath the stairs where wardrobes were buried under the debris of the stair.

The boy knew this feeling well, it was the same feeling he always had whenever he’s being watched. But nothing seemed to indicate a stalker or even an Ability user with peeking gift. He wondered if the other detective could feel it too, wondered if Kunikida’s increased jitter is because of that.

Atsushi just wished they can get out of this shrine soon. It was not welcoming them.

When he was deep in thought, watching Tanizaki scribble something on his notebook, he heard a loud gasp and the thundering of feet. Whirling around, he could see the tails of Dazai’s tan coat disappearing down the corner of a dark corridor.

“Dazai-san?” he called out in apprehension and stepped to the corridor carefully. Kunikida fell into step beside him, posture confident but hand shoved into the pocket where Atsushi knew his Ideal resided.

“Oi, Dazai?” when no answer was forthcoming, they glanced at one another and nodded, bolting to the corridor side-by-side. They turned the corner at the same time, ready to pounce at any possible danger their colleague might have found.

Just after the turn, Dazai was standing still, camera still in hand. In front of him, the corridor stopped at a pile of debris from caved in ceiling, an open maw to the second floor. Seeing that there was no visible sign of danger, Atsushi relaxed his stance even though the coiling stress on his shoulders didn’t lessen.

“Dazai-san?” he tried calling out again and this time Dazai whirled back to look at him as if in surprise. His eyes were wide and frantic, breath coming in short gasps. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” Atsushi asked, eyes darting everywhere to locate the source of the older man’s distress and only found shadows beneath the debris of the caved in ceiling.

“Atsushi-kun, Kunikida-kun.” He blinked as if he couldn’t really process something then he turned back to look at the dead end of corridor. “What was…? I thought I saw…”

“Dazai, what is it? What did you see?” Kunikida asked, hand tightening on his notebook while trying to spot anything that might induce this strange reaction from his partner.

“Ah, it’s nothing!” Dazai giggled, cheer returning to his voice. “I just thought I saw a nice beam over here where I could hang myself. But everything was too rotten here to do anything fun.” He sighed dramatically.

Kunikida’s eyebrow twitched and as he began to shout at his colleague for wasting time, Atsushi didn’t miss how he clenched his fists as if knowing that Dazai’s lying through his teeth.

After the small incident, the team continued combing through the dilapidated mansion, scrounging for any information and taking pictures. They were met with many blocked passages and some dead-ends, and they couldn’t investigate some parts of the mansion because of the dangerous ceiling or the second level because of the rotting floor.

When the sun began to set, they all packed their bags and headed back in Kunikida’s car. Atsushi and Tanizaki were just relieved to finally be free of that place, but not even their relief could blanket their awareness of how subdued their senior member is.

“Dazai-san, are you alright?” Atsushi asked carefully to the man sitting beside him, looking out the window as if wanting to see the crumbling manor one last time.

“Of course I am, why should I be not alright?” he asked back before melting into the seats once not even the highest point of the mansion could be seen.  Atsushi didn’t comment, kept his silence as they swerved through the roads and to the hotel they have rented for the night.

Since the manor was rather far away from the heart of Yokohama city, they decided that they wouldn’t drive through the night home in case something happened in the manor and they needed rest—or Yosano needed to half-kill someone. So they have booked three rooms at a local Japanese-style inn.

Almost immediately as they decided on room arrangement, Yosano was gone to the _onsen_. After some contemplation, Atsushi and Tanizaki decided to go as well. Dazai wished he could be there to witness their horror when the boys realized that they have mixed-gender hot spring instead of male and female being separated. He wondered who will faint first when they saw Yosano-sensei naked in the hot water.

He would really love to join them all, but for now he had something else to do.

Opening the door to the small room he would be sharing with Kunikida for the night, Dazai found him already connecting a camera to his laptop, looking through the pictures and scribbling notes on a plain black book.

“You’re not joining the others to the _onsen_ , Kunikida-kun?” Dazai asked as he opened the sliding door to the closet, pulling out a pair of soft, simple _yukata_.

“We’re not here for vacation.” He repeated grimly as stared at pictures after pictures.

“I know.” Dazai said as he pulled off all of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxer and bandage, before pulling the blue _yukata_ on and tied it close with the sash. “But you have to relax every now and then, you know. Being so serious about work will be bad for your health. I heard the _onsen_ here is good for back aches.”

 He listened with amusement as the scratch of pen on paper stopped.

“Didn’t your back problems become worse these days? You won’t be able to work effectively if you don’t take this chance.” He encouraged. Crouching in front of the older man, he supported chin on both fist and placed on a mock-innocent expression. “Go ahead, Kunikida-kun~ You know you need to do something about your back before it break and you have to take a vacation to heal the injury~”

“I… guess you’re right.” Kunikida sighed and placed down the pen, standing up with a grunt and cracks of bones settling into place. He really sounded and acted like an old man for all he’s months younger than Dazai. “What about you? You’re not coming?”

“I’ll go later. I prefer to have a meal first before bath.” He answered with a grin. Staring at him critically for a moment, Kunikida sighed and grabbed the yukata Dazai offered to him, leaving the room with little fanfare.

The moment his partner was out of the room, Dazai dropped the cheerful smile he had. He slid into the _zabuton_ still warmed by Kunikida’s body heat and disconnected the camera Tanizaki used to gather intel. Grabbing the one he had used, Dazai connected it and scrolled down the memory folder until he found the picture he was looking for.

With dread churning low in his stomach, he clicked on the picture that showed the corridor to enlarge it. What he saw in it was enough to make him froze, tendrils of fear and hope twisting around his insides. It left nothing but battered nerves on its wake.

His breath sped up as he clicked to the next picture and found nothing strange in it. But when he returned to the last picture it still hasn’t changed. He could feel his heart thumping wildly, blood loud in his ears as he lifted a hand and touched the screen as if his finger could penetrate the layer.

“Dazai-kun?” The feminine voice dragged him from the vice of cold tendrils that began to reside in his chest, clearing away the noises in his ears. On the doorway, Yosano was standing in a simple blue _yukata_ provided by the inn. Her expression was one of worry.

She has done bathing? How long has Dazai been lost inside his own mind?

Schooling his expression into a pleasant one, he grinned in the face of Yosano’s concern. “So? Who fainted first, Yosano-sensei?”

Yosano remained silent for a moment before she scoffed, deciding to play along.

As she recounted the story of how all three men are busy being out like light in the hot spring, bobbing on the water like corpses, Dazai deleted the picture after sending it to his email.

.

.

.

In a spacious room in the heart of Yokohama, the strongest people in its criminal organization were gathered. The sunlight came in slanted from the large glass that made up one wall, casting shadows and adding to the heavy atmosphere.

“How many people this make?” Mori asked, putting down the report he just read.

“Seventeen people have been victim to the _Interdimensional Rabbit Hole_ in this month alone, sir. Seven of them are fine even now, but four are Lost and three has been Spirited Away. The remaining three are not looking so good; they might end up Spirited Away too. ” Chuuya answered, closing the document he was reading with furrowed brows. “The numbers are rising.”

“It must be because people went to look for the Lost and fell in themselves.” Kouyou said somberly, flipping to the next page. She sighed when a familiar picture was pinned to the document. “Kawasugi Yuuji, one of my accountants. His sister was Lost and he fell into the IRH to look for her last month and came back traumatized. He didn’t find his sister was Spirited Away three days ago.”

“This is truly a problem.” Mori sighed. “Not only are we down an Executive after the Rats’ attack we now have another problem in our hands. Ahh… I won’t be able to take Elise-chan out for ice cream this weekend.”

“What should we do about this case, sir?” Chuuya asked. The boss shot a smile to the Executive, intertwining his fingers in front of his face.

“Nothing.” A smirk spread on the boss’ face as he took in his subordinates’ stunned expression. “The Armed Detective Agency and the government are tackling this case. As you would know they are quite the competent bunch. We should let them solve the problem for us.”

“What about those who are still Lost, sir? If the other organizations came across them we have no guarantee that they won’t try to kill our men.” Kouyou said gravely.

“I have plans in motion for that, Kouyou-kun.” Mori chuckled. “For now, I want you to amass as much power as you could and quell the rebellion in the West. I recommend you take the best with you so they won’t become one of the Lost. Yokohama is quite unsafe these days.”

“Should I take the Intelligence officers and Nakahara Chuuya with me, sir?”

“Take Yamaguchi and Satonaka with you. The rest of the Intelligence Officers doesn’t have enough merit to be protected, so you can leave them if you wish. For Nakahara-kun, I’m afraid I have something else in mind for him.” He waved his hand to her. “Dismissed, Kouyou-kun. Prepare for your departure immediately.”

“I understand, Mori-dono.” Kouyou stood up, swiping the report that seemingly disappeared into the folds of her kimono. “I shall take my leave now.”

As she went past, one of her hand found Chuuya’s shoulder and squeezed soothingly. The young man placed his gloved hand above hers for a second before she was gone, sweeping out of the room with a flutter of colorful fabric.

When the door was closed behind her, Chuuya let his eyes rest on the boss once again. “What is it that you want me to do, sir?”

“I will inform you about the details later.” Mori said, intertwining his fingers just beneath his chin. “But for now I will have you keep an eye on the Agency.”

“Why the Agency, sir?” he would rather not, knowing that bastard Dazai was there and would know if he’s spying on his workplace. Just imagining facing him was enough to make Chuuya want to spit on the ground. But if the Boss ordered him to do so, he couldn’t really fight it.

“The recent swell of terrorist from the Middle East has reached Japan, so the government would be too busy taking care of infiltrating spies and Ability-users to care about this case. Which meant most of its investigation relating to it will be relegated to the Agency.” Standing up from his seat, Mori passed Chuuya to stand in front of the glass wall, hands folded on the small of his back. “The Agency would be the one closest to the truth, and I want that.”

“Am I to help them along with their investigation, sir?” Chuuya asked while trying his hardest not to gnash his teeth.

“No, just observe them and repot your findings to me. You might want to be careful, though. Dazai would not be happy to find you snooping around his territory.” Smiling, Mori added, “Oh, and a group of terrorists are going to land on the port tonight at eleven sharp. Make arrangement to send them to Tokyo. They will make terribly great fireworks that will cover some of our trail in the recent months.”

“Of course. Anything else, sir?”

“No. You’re dismissed, Nakahara-kun.”

Sweeping into a bow, Chuuya replaced his hat and walked out with his file. When he was standing on the open doorway, Mori called his name.

“I nearly forgot to say this.” He said without taking his eyes from the distant view of the window. “Do not look for those who has been Lost, Nakahara-kun. Not even if they’re your subordinate.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened in shock when he heard the order “But, sir—“

“Do I make myself clear?” Mori asked. His voice pleasant yet Chuuya could hear the steel imbued just beneath that tone.

“…if I may ask, sir. Why?”

“I have lost one of my Executives recently and have yet to find Ace’s replacement whether in position or monetary support.” He explained. “This Empire is getting too heavy to be supported by my back alone, Nakahara-kun.”

Exhaling, Chuuya closed his eyes and nodded, stepping out of the room and closing the door with a resolute click.

“Rintarou is stupid.” Elise appeared from the middle of the room, stepping beside the man with a humph. “You know Chuu-chuu won’t just stand idle because you said so.”

“I know, Elise-chan.” He laughed, patting her head. “I know.”

Outside of the room, Tachihara who has been impatiently waiting while pacing the hallway perked up when a voice echoed down the long corridor, Chuuya appearing with a phone pressed to his ear. Blue eyes found him and Chuuya nodded in greeting, not breaking his pace or conversation as he kept walking onward. Tachihara fell into step just behind him.

“Yes…yes,  of course. You take care of yourself too, Ane-san.” Chuuya nodded and said his goodbyes before slipping the phone into his pocket. Tachihara, who has been fidgeting while matching his stride, straightened his back when he realized his superior was ready to give him his attention. “What is it, man?”

“How did the meeting with the boss went, Chuuya-san?” The Black Lizard member asked.

“We are to stand by in Yokohama as the Organization’s guard while Kouyou-ane-san and her subordinates quell the western rebellion.” He explained. “So, really, not much change needed to go to your work schedule or anything.”

“What about Shirou and Yamamichi, sir?” Tachihara asked, tone urgent. “Did we get the permission to start a search party for them?”

Closing his eyes, Chuuya stopped walking to place a hand on Tachihara’s shoulder. Squeezing it, he gazed straight into his subordinate’s eyes. The hope in them was already fading away when he saw the solemn look on the Executive’s face. “I’m sorry, the boss told us to not look for them.”

Tachihara’s shoulders slumped, eyes widening. “But—but sir! They’re my comrades, _our_ comrades! We can’t just—just leave them to die.”

“I know, Tachihara. But it was an order from the boss.” Chuuya gritted his teeth. “Don’t look for the Lost. Do you understand?”

Biting his lip, Tachihara nodded with his head bowed low. Exhaling, Chuuya shook his head and continued walking. “It’s not like I don’t want them to be safe. As their superior I’m supposed to look after you all, but a direct order from the boss cannot be ignored so easily.”

“I understand, Chuuya-san.” The voice that answered him was resigned.

“Oi, Michizou.” He narrowed blue eyes at his subordinate who focused back on him, slightly surprised at the use of his given name “Don’t think about doing stupid thing, got it?”

The other man shrugged with a sad smile. “Where are you going now, Nakhaara-san?”

“I’m visiting Nakada. I think his wife is here, trying to bargain about having his husband stay in their house rather than in the HQ.” he sighed. “The doctors still can’t find anything wrong with him or the reason why the tattoo appeared everytime he woke up from his sleep. But I guess we can’t have him stay here any longer.”

“Yeah…” Tachihara trailed off. “Wanting to have Nakada back home even if she will be burdened with taking care of him, that sounds just like Chihiro.”

After the short conversation died off, they entered the elevator and walked in silence toward housing section of the HQ building. Stepping into a corridor, they saw two people in the middle of it. One of them was holding the other who was sobbing uncontrollably, half-screaming into the chest of the first person.

Chuuya’s eyes widened when he recognized the two people.

“Gin? Chihiro!” Tachihara called out.

“Gin? What happened?” Chuuya asked, quickening his steps until he was jogging to them. Gin turned her eyes on him and he saw how it was filled with tears. It was clear that she’s trying to keep herself together as she held the woman crying in her arms. 

“Chuuya-san, sir. It’s—Nakada, he has—“

Eyes widening, Chuuya bolted to the door and crashed into the room. What he saw made him stop in his track, eyes widening as he took in the bed stained with black soot in the shape of a human being. Tachihara followed him in, eyes widening in horror and denial as he took in the sight.

“Nakada…” Fell to his knees as he stared at the empty bed. “You too…?”

Putting his hat off to press it atop his chest, Chuuya walked closer with bated breath. Hand outstretched, he touched the soot that stained his glove. Chihiro was still crying in the background, throat ground by the painful sounding sobs. The Executive balled his hand into a fist.

“Nakahara-san.” Chihiro pushed Gin away and stumbled into the room. “My husband… my husband is gone…! Please, please get him back.” she wailed. Gin caught her before she could fall to the carpet.

“Mrs. Nakada… I’m so sorry.” Chuuya said softly. He knelt in front of her and gathered the woman into his arms, holding her as she broke down in the room where her husband was asleep just moments ago. “I am so sorry.”

From his peripheral vision he could see Gin folding into herself, eyes grim and sad. Behind him, Tachihara started to sob when the reality sunk in that yet another one of his friend was gone to the curse that has been plaguing Yokohama for the last three months. Chuuya held back his emotion because right now he has to time or chance to cry. He needed to be strong for his subordinate to get through this.

After he has calmed down the woman, he sent Gin to get her home and immediately arranged for her to receive monthly payment from the Mafia for five years in the same amount that her husband would be getting if he was still alive. He hoped it would be enough for her to stand back on her feet.

He ordered some of his subordinate to amass at the port where the terrorist would be touching down tonight, leaving the arrangement to one of his trusted subordinate. While preparation was being made, Chuuya stripped the bed off of the soot stained sheet, the only thing left of Nakada Satoru. He brought it to the laundry room and bypassed the washing machine altogether.

Taking of his gloves and jacket, Chuuya washed the sheets with his own two hands with a grim expression. The black soot was drained away by running water, swirling down the drain along with the suds and warm water.

Chuuya didn’t cry. He washed the fabric as clean as he could until his hands were red from friction and prunes appeared on the tips of his fingers. He grimly kept doing it without a word as if apologizing, to his subordinates that now would constantly fear for their life, for Nakada whom he couldn’t save, to Nakada’s wife who lost her one and only, to Tachihara who lost his best friend, to Gin who has to witness all that.

He probably also apologized to himself, who has broken his own solemn vow of protecting the people who has sworn their life for the Mafia.

The white sheet was pristine white after he was done with it.

.

.

Cold.

Dazai opened his eyes and the first thing he saw in the darkness was the gentle fall of snow. Even their color was muted in the oppressing dimness that took away any color and turned them all into white noise.

When he opened his eyes fully, he could see the sprawl of a mansion hidden behind the flurry of snow.

_The Priest is here…_

From the distance that voice echoed, followed by a chorus of giggles. When they fade away, he heard a familiar voice calling out his name. A voice he missed so, so much.

Taking a deep breath, Dazai exhaled billows of white and stepped toward the looming gates.

.

.

“Is it done?” Chuuya asked one of his subordinate who he put in charge of transporting the group of terrorist. The young woman nodded.

“It’s done, Chuuya-san.”

“What a pretentious bunch, why do they need so many specific stuff just to bomb a few buildings.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair before replacing his hat. “Well, I will be going back now. Think you can you handle the rest of the clean up?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Matou-kun.” He waved to the young woman before he began walking away, black cloak flapping in the night wind of the seas.

He’s worried, which is natural in and of itself. He’s been in the role of the worrier all his life. When he was still in the streets he worried about himself and his friends as winter came, when he get to the Mafia he spent the majority of eleven years worrying about his bastard of a partner, when his partner was gone he was a minor Executive and he worried about, well, everything.

And now, his worry was mounting because of everything that’s been happening. At this rate he would be crushed under the weight sooner than later. He need to get this case solved as fast as possible in order to have less casualties and for the sake of his own sanity.

What is the Agency even doing in an _onsen_ in this critical time is fucking beyond him. Dazai must have poisoned all of them with his questionable morale and common sense. Or maybe they just have never lost a comrade to the IRH like he did.

Chuuya was snapped out of his musings when the HQ came into view. Stopping his car in front of the building, he rode the elevator upstairs while sulking quietly, leaning on the cold metal wall. He would need to get his bearing together and let go of his frustration if he wanted to get out of this mess with his head still on his shoulders.

With no mission to do and no enemy to beat into pulp, his only chance was getting an hours-long bath accompanied by a bottle of wine and a good poetry book. Probably a few scented candles if he hasn’t used all of them to calm his nerves when the first IRH victims broke out.

But ever the responsible Executive, he decided that doing so in the luxury of his apartment would impend on his reaction time if an emergency occurred. So he would have to do it here in the HQ assigned room where he got his own suite, the upside of being an Executive.

On the fifth floor, the elevator door opened for Tachihara who seemed harried as hell. His eyes widened when he saw Chuuya, almost like deer in headlight, who calmly raised an eyebrow at his frantic appearance. “Yo. Something the matter, Michizou?”

“Gah! Um, yeah, uh… G-Gin’s bleeding!”

Chuuya’s eyes widened and he immediately stepped off the wall, ready to burst into his subordinate’s room if needed. “Why? What happened? An attack?”

“No, that’s—it’s just” he gestured wildly with his hands, practically infecting Chuuya with his own panic “You know! Girls! Bleed! The moon phrase! Or something!”

The realization struck him like thunder “Oh.” He deflated, immediately uncomfortable. “Or something. Well, uh, minimarket’s just around the corner of the street.”

“Yeah, that’s why I need to get down—I’ll just…. take the stairs. It’s probably faster.” He exclaimed, turning away.

“Wait.” Chuuya called out, “You want me to come with you, dude?”

“Chuuya-san, I don’t think having an Executive buying… _that_ from a minimarket’s going to be swell for the Mafia’s reputation.”

“Right. Yeah, yes, right.” He frowned. Whipping out his wallet, Chuuya pulled out a bundle of money, uncaring how much he’s actually pulling out and shoved it into Tachihara’s pocket. “Go ahead and buy... ice cream, or chocolate, or whatever. I heard it good for… uh, you know, girls, when they’re… yeah.”

“Yeah.” Tachihara nodded, Chuuya answered it also with a nod. The two of them nodded to each other for a long moment before the Executive broke the chain with a cough. Pressing the close button, he leaned back against the wall as the elevator began climbing up again.

Great, another worrying material was all he needed.

Chuuya thunked his head on the wall and groaned in despair.

His subordinates are not children, they’re criminals like him with bloodied hand and more combat experience than a hundred civilian’s combined. They don’t need to be nagged after, certainly not if the problem was personal and none of his business.

Moreover, he’s a Mafia Executive, not a goddamn mother hen.

So why, just why is he standing in front of the Black Lizard’s assigned room when he should be up in his suite getting his soak? Why did his finger betray him by pressing the button for the fifth floor just as the elevator opened to the eleventh? If he knew the answer, then he wouldn’t so damn confused.  

He rapped at the door, already resigning himself to his fate. He expected Hirotsu to open the door since Gin’s should currently be unavailable, but the door was opened by a beautiful young woman in white dress, brushing black hair out of her eyes with her fingers.

“Chuuya-san?” Gin asked, mouth tugging down worriedly. “Is something the matter?”

“Gin?” Chuuya narrowed his eyes, looking around the quiet of the floor. His eyes narrowed. “Tachihara is not here, huh?”

Her eyes widened, lips twitching. “Oh, he’s out currently. Can I rely a message for you?”

“You’re feeling alright?” Chuuya asked. “Tachihara sent me a message telling me that you’re having a very bad migraine. I thought I should check in to see your condition in case it gets worse.”

“Oh, yes I’m alright now. I have… eaten something warm and took some medicine so I’m feeling better.” She answered. Chuuya closed his eyes to ward of the pressing desire to roll his eyes at how obvious she was.

“You know, Gin. You really are your brother’s sister.” Chuuya sighed, gripping the door sill. “Both of you are bad at hiding something, even worse with lying. Spill. Where did Tachihara go?”

“That’s—“

“Gin.” He said lowly, anger bubbling to the surface. He knew Gin saw it because she stiffened. “Where is he?”

Opening her mouth, he glared at her as if daring the young woman to lie again. She closed her mouth and her lips pressed into a think line. Finally coming to a decision, she answered “…the city park, sir.”

“Is he in danger?”

She hesitated for a moment and answered “…yes.”

Chuuya gnashed his teeth, grip cracking the door sill “Spill everything you know, Gin. Right. Now.”

“Sakizawa called him, saying he found an IRH in City Park.” Gin confessed, brushing black hair back and tuck it behind her ear, the nervous tick she shared with her older brother  “Tachihara-kun told every member of the Lizards but Hirotsu-san to call him when they find one, so they did. He must have gone there.”

Cursing, Chuuya reared back to hit his fist to the wall, frustration and mounting anger translating into rubbles falling from the other side of the wall. Gin calmly blinked, far too used to the display of emotion.

“Chuuya-san…” she trailed off, jaw setting. “Please stop him.”

“That stubborn bastard wouldn’t listen to anyone when he got like that.” Chuuya snarled as he pulled his fist back. “I’m going to drag him back kicking and screaming if I must. You might want to prepare some sort of chain and a locked room to keep the bastard in for a few days.”

He saw Gin nodding, a bit too seriously for his liking. But he brushed it off, deciding that if she really did prepare the torture room, Tachihara would deserve every minute he spent chained there.

Deftly, Chuuya opened a window and jumped out, using gravity to cushion his fall to the ground. He smacked an open palm to a car parked by the HQ, the driver was ready to shout at him before realizing that the person standing by his vehicle was none other than an Executive. To which his jaw fell slack. “You get out of there, I need the damn car.” Chuuya growled.

The mafia goon nodded frantically and pulled at his seatbelt, dropping out of his car with no finesse. Slipping into the vehicle, Chuuya slammed the door shut and ripped two pages off his checkbook, throwing them out the window to the man before speeding off.

Pulling his phone out, he called Sakizawa Fukio while driving, demanding the exact location of the IRH he found. Squeaking in fear from the obvious dark anger in the Executive’s tone, the man spilled easily. _Inside the man-made forest._ Was what Sakizawa told him.

That done, he spent the rest of the ten-minute’ drive trying to call Tachihara and was met with nothing but an offer for leaving a message.

He got the City Park in record time even for himself. Abandoning the car in a restricted place close to the park, Chuuya ran all the way to the man-made forest, not thinking twice before he sprinted into the shadows of trees and bushes.

“Oi! Tachihara!” Chuuya hollered and began to curse when no answer was forthcoming. The forest should only be three kilometers in radius, Tachihara should have heard him if he was still there.

There was a strange charge in the air, the faint taste of ozone on his tongue. Frowning, Chuuya slowed down to a jog, casting his eyes everywhere to look for his idiot of a subordinate. It was dark and the foliage was not helping the visibility, but the full moon gave him enough light to at least see the ground he’s stepping on and the dark cast shadows of the trees all around him.

Barks and branches reached toward the sky, looming so tall Chuuya felt dwarfed in their midst. It’s incredibly silly; he’s just in the city park not a forgotten rain forest with stalking predators. But the reality seemed different, as if his instinct was screaming at him to run away from this place, that it’s dangerous.

Chuuya trusted his instinct, it has saved his life many times before, but he ignored it this one time in favor of pressing forward. He stopped and looked around, gritting his teeth. He can’t keep running around blindly like this, he has to look for Tachihara and get the stupid idea out of his mind before he lost the young man.

Getting his phone out, Chuuya called Tachihara’s phone for what felt like the hundredth time in just one evening. He jogged without it pressing to his ears, listening intently for anything other than the beeping of the line.

When he thought he heard something, nine beeps have passed. Cursing, he called the phone again and this time he definitely heard the ridiculous ringtone Tachihara set for his phone. It was faint, but Chuuya immediately sprinted to where the sound originated from.

 Breaking through the foliage, Chuuya focused on the dim light coming from beyond a tree. Beneath a tree, Tachihara’s phone was ringing but what caught his eyes was the faintly pulsing thing just in front of it.  

Squinting, Chuuya walked forward. Something was hovering about half a meter from the ground, just in front of Tachihara’s still-ringing phone. He came closer, bending a little to grab the gadget and pocketed it, realizing that in front of him was an IRH— _Interdimensional Rabbit Hole_ , the one he’s been hearing about left and right ever since this whole fiasco with the Lost happened. Pulling out his phone, Chuuya took a picture of the IRH, sure that the intel would come in handy somehow.

Exhaling in both apprehension and strung-out nerves, Chuuya walked forward, hand extended to that tear in reality. The difference between the two worlds was almost immediately clear. Even through his gloves he could feel how cold it was, the space itself was heavy as if he’s pressing into thick liquid. On the edges of the hole, he could see pale grey letters flashing and fading away, the sure sign that this hole was torn open by an Ability.

It seemed like a wound in the fabric of reality itself, a vertical maw the shape of two teardrops pressed together in their thickest part. From beyond it he could see the image of a hallway painted with moonlight.  Tachihara would be in there, looking for Yamamichi and Shirou.

Frowning, Chuuya pushed onward, folding into himself to fit into the entrance.

Stepping on the wooden floor, the man shivered from how cold it was in the other side. Looking back, even that dark forest was brighter, more vivid. It was as if something has sucked away the color in this dimension, leaving it pale and barren from any life.

Turning back to stare down the hallway, Chuuya filled his lungs with the heavy air and steeled himself. Dust burst from beneath the creaking floorboards when he stepped on them, sending motes of them to dance in the stale air that seemed to have yet been touched for years on end.

He walked deeper into the mansion. Down a hallway, a turn down a corridor. Cobwebs were everywhere and yet he couldn’t spot even one spider that should be responsible for creating them. There was a shape covered by tarp on his left. Pulling on one end, Chuuya found that it was a wardrobe. On the slightly opened drawer he could see a chorus of faded color from an off-blue kimono.

There should be patterns on the fabric, but as was with everything in this dimension, it was blurred out. As if they were all just a dream and he’s invading where he does not belong.

Bypassing the chest altogether, Chuuya happened upon a door. Pushing on it, he found it to be locked. Scowling, he pulled to no avail. The Executive turned around and went back to the drawer. Pressing his palm against the cold surface, a breath burst from his lungs when he realized that The Tainted Sorrow cannot be used.

“Damn it.” He mumbled to himself. Turning back, he kept walking carefully, leaving the door for now, eyes and ears open for any disturbances.

Every person who has Fell into this place has been talking about the overwhelming cold and a tattooed woman chasing them in an ancient Japanese-style mansion. If said woman meant harm, then Chuuya can only take her on with his fists. He hoped it would be enough; he didn’t want to lose even a single subordinate to this place anymore.

And he’s certain as hell he don’t want to the ranks of the Lost

From reports, he knew that there are time limits for the portals before they closed and entrap the people still inside. Even though they open randomly and with no clear pattern, they always open for at least thirty minutes. Counting the estimation time for Tachihara to find it and Chuuya to get here, he reckoned he had at the very least five minutes to get his subordinate back before the portal close and they become one of the Lost.

The clear sound of a bell rings from the end of the corridor, disturbing his train of thought. Chuuya whirled around, heart jumping to his throat and instinctively fell into a defensive stance. Casting his eyes around to look for the source and saw a girl standing just by the turn, staring straight at him.

She couldn’t be older than fifteen, with brown skirt and red ribbon on her collar, all of them pale and nearly monochrome as everything was in this godforsaken place. Standing fully, Chuuya carefully approached her.

“Miss, are you lost?” he asked, but when no answer was forthcoming, he stopped a good five meters from where girl was standing still. “Miss?”

“You’re looking for someone.” The voice was plain, with no inflection or emotion. Chuuya could feel himself getting his guard up; the hair on the back of his neck standing up by how unnatural her voice was.  

“I am. A young man named Tachihara. Jacket, red hair and around this tall.” He raised his hand as high as it could go without him standing on tiptoes. “Do you see him?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed, and the utter blackness in it was so consuming Chuuya could barely look at it without feeling his hackles rise. Despite facing nothing but a little girl, Chuuya could feel his fight or flight reaction switching on. “Wrong. Wrong, you’re not looking for that person.”

“I don’t? Then who am I looking for?” Chuuya asked

“Your other half.” The girl said eerily, a far too wide smile began to spread on her face. “Your lost other half. Looking for your other half like I looked for mine through that village.”

“My other half?”

“I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t save her. I let her die, I let her take my place. I should have died along with her and yet I am here, alive.” She mumbled, getting more and more frantic.

“Look, you must have been in here for too long. Come with me, I’ll take you to safety.” Chuuya said, stepping closer. Suddenly the girl shrieked, an animal sound that had all his hair standing, his foot taking a step back.

“No, you won’t take me away. You can’t take me from away from her. Not again, not again. I’ll stay forever, I promised I’ll be with her forever.” She screamed the first part and her voice got smaller and smaller until she was barely mumbling the last part. “Am I right, Mayu? We’ll be together, forever.” she said softly to the side and she walked into the turn where Chuuya couldn’t see her anymore.

“Oi!” Chuuya called out, striding hurriedly to that turn. But when he got there he only sees a long corridor stretching, illuminated by what seemed like moonlight from the windows lining one wall. And there, under the beams of light, was a single crimson butterfly, fluttering.

Squinting his eyes, Chuuya carefully approached the insect until it suddenly stopped moving and just fell with a clear clinking to the wooden floor. Making a confused noise, Chuuya reached out for the butterfly and picked it up.

Beneath his touch, he could feel that it was made of glass.  The slick surface was warm and reflected the light of the moon, the crimson of it so vivid and startling in the gloom of the dimension.

A sudden creak from the corridor made Chuuya jump, and he stared into the dim dead end. On the side was a door, easily overlooked with how it blended with the walls, and he was quite sure that’s where the sound originated from. Slipping the glass butterfly into his inside pocket, Chuuya crept forward slowly, eyes and ears open for any sudden attacks. He might no longer have gravity on his side, but his fist could break through the wooden wall that made up this mansion and he hoped that would be enough.

Approaching the door, he stood on the side of it and grabbed the handle, sliding it to the side. The room beyond was dank and dimly lit, barely any light was penetrating it. Squinting, Chuuya stepped into the room and stalked deeper. A sudden thud nearly made him jump but he realized it was just the door closing on its own. Trying the handle told him that the door can still be opened easily enough so he let it be.

As he went deeper into the room full of books and parchments, he could faintly hear a panicked breath coming from somewhere within the room. Furrowing his brows, Chuuya stepped carefully, stalking forward as silently as he could until he came closer to that sound.

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya peeked past a large bookshelf toward where the sound originated from. On the corner of the room, a lump of dark shape is shivering, curling into a small ball as it made pitiful sounds.

It was then that Chuuya started to hear him muttering something. It became clearer as he crept forward, the repeated phrase of “The woman… the woman with tattoo…”

Chuuya knew that voice.

“Michizou?” Chuuya called out and that lump jerked, fear and shock fueling his movement as Tachihara whipped his head to him.

“Chuuya-san…?” he breathed out as if in disbelief.

“You idiot!” Chuuya hissed as he dove forward to his subordinate. Throwing one of Tachihara’s arm across his shoulders, he dragged the taller man up. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Wait, wait, there.” Tachihara whispered, pointing to an opening in the wall.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“I—I think I found something important.” Tachihara swallowed “But it got into the crack and I can’t get it out.” Frowning, Chuuya placed him down and peeked into said crack in the wall. A push to the wood told him that was brittle despite their thickness, just enough that a crack as big as that could form naturally over the course of time. Just inside it was a dark lump of shadows.

Snaking his hand in, Chuuya was grateful for his smaller stature. Most likely, Tachihara was unable to reach for it because of his large hand and wrist wouldn’t fit into the hole. Frowning in concentration, Chuuya grappled until his fingers brushed something slick and cold, definitely not wood. Wrapping his hand around it, he dragged it out.

Holding the item in his hand, Chuuya found that it was a wallet made out of fine leather. He opened it to see the picture of a woman with long golden hair, smiling at the camera. The summer dress she wore was billowing in a soft breeze as she held on the large-brimmed hat and a basket of sunflowers. On the other side of the photograph, there was a folded paper. Pulling it out, he realized that it was a visa, already two-months expired. He read the name on it aloud.

“Lewis Carroll?”

Suddenly the place became darker in an instant. Immediately alert, Chuuya shoved the wallet into his pant pocket, standing up. Beside him, Tachihara whimpered

“I-it’s her.” Tachihara stuttered. “It’s the tattooed woman.”

Cursing, Chuuya dragged the other man up. “Can you run?” he demanded. If this tattooed woman is dangerous enough that the survivor of the fall through IRH, veterans of the mafia in their own rights, would have trauma from facing her off only once, it’s probably best to avoid contact with this being.  

He could see how Tachihara’s knees trembled, barely able to support his own weight as the majority of the reason he was somewhat upright was the fist in his collar “Chuuya-san, I—“

“Okay, that’s enough whining. Now you listen to me.” Chuuya growled, twisting his hand into Tachihara’s collar. “I’m not losing even one more man to this place, get it? So you better stand up and run, you bastard.” Roughly throwing the man back, Chuuya was satisfied when the haze of fear and paralysis cleared from Tachihara’s eyes. In exchange, determination set in as the man nodded.

He wobbled on his feet, but soon he was standing straight on his own again.

“Good. Now come on. We’re getting out of here.” He said. Tachihara nodded and followed him.

Chuuya’s neck prickled when he stepped into a bubble of cold. Stopping, he met Tachihara’s frightened eyes, before walking around the last bookcase into the line of sight of the door.

It was open.

And in front of it a woman stood, as blue and pale and unreal as the rest of the place. Behind her, the moonlight that should be coloring the hallway has disappeared, leaving only inky blackness with no beginning and no end, tendrils of it reaching into the room.

Hanging black hair hid the woman’s face from view. Fear crept into his being as the woman moved, neck rotating unnaturally so that she was looking straight at him with white eyes.

 

_A line of people holding bundles of the dead, the dead, a needle, a closed room, wails of the people left behind_

_An underground tunnel filled with tattooed women staked to the ground and the wall._

_Four children by his hands and feet holding stakes and hammer_

_Black blue purple tattoos bruises pain_

_Painpainpainbilestakes_

_Sleep, let him sleep_

_Forevermore_

_…Kaname…_

No

“Chuuya-san!” The shout returned him to the reality where Tachihara was tugging harshly on his elbow. The woman stepped toward them, darkness following her every languid steps. White eyes was still boring holes into his “Come on!”

Breathing hard, Chuuya followed him, instinct flared to run, _run_ like a prey in front of a stalking predator. As if the moment they’re caught, a fate worse than death is awaiting them. The labyrinth of bookcases stopped at the very back of the room, the corner where he first found Tachihara.

“It’s a dead end!” his subordinate cried out.

“Not exactly.” Chuuya gritted his teeth and ran forward, fist drawn. With one powerful swing, he hit the wall, wood cracking under his fist and the impact punching a hole through the fragile wooden board. Splinters got stuck in his gloves when he pulled the fist away, but he didn’t let out even a sound.

Rearing back, Chuuya drew up his foot and kicked the wall, widening the gap. Realizing what he’s trying to do, Tachihara stood beside him and together the kicked a hole wide enough for a person to squeeze through.

“Go!” Chuuya hollered as he saw tendrils of darkness creeping down the row they’re in. The woman was close.

A whisper of fabric and she was there, pale body bare except for the kimono messily hung from her waist, covered in tattoos so deeply purple and blue they might as well be black. Chuuya felt his breath was sucked out of his lungs when he met her eyes. Her mouth opened, a maw of darkness that could swallow him whole.

_Stay here, forever_

“Chuuya-san! Come on!” Tachihara hollered. Snapping out of his trance for the second time, Chuuya turned back and threw his hat out of the hole before squeezing out of the room. The moment he was back on his feet, the Executive swiped his hat off the floor as the two of them began running.

Glancing back as they ran away, blue eyes widened as the woman phased through the wall like it was nothing. Setting her gaze toward them, the woman began running after them, movement jerky and just _wrong_.

“Fuck you, Michizou! I fucking hate you and I regret the day you were born!” Chuuya hollered when he realized that woman is _fast_. Rather than running it almost seemed like she mimicking the act as she swallowed the hallway in impenetrable darkness. Hands fumbling and reaching toward them, as if trying to catch and never let go.

Chuuya forced himself to look forward, relying on his senses that tingled when the darkness came too close. The woman was suddenly right beside him, peering into his face with empty eyes. Cursing, Chuuya sidestepped her clumsy lunge. In expanse of not being caught, he lost his pace and nearly fell, forcing him to stop running to gather his balance back and start running again.

Glancing back, he saw the woman standing where he just was if he hadn’t evaded her arms. She disappeared into the darkness.

“Chuuya-san, why the sudden--” Tachihara hollered back before he nearly gasped and choked on a shriek when the woman suddenly appeared from beyond the complete inky blackness, running toward them again with that jerky movements and half-lunges that should be against the law of physics.

Turning a corner, they saw a double door just on the end of the long hallway. Behind them, the woman moaned in pain, audible even through the rush of blood that has taken over their hearing. Sprinting as fast as they could toward that door, Chuuya threw it open and slammed it close behind him. Beside him, Tachihara stopped running and panted for breath.

“Keep running!” Chuuya shouted without taking his eyes off the doors, backing away with panted breath. “She can phase through walls!”

“What?!”

Just as he shouted the question, darkness spilled from beneath the door and the wood rattled, shaking powerfully.

“Damn it!” Chuuya cursed and turned back, intending to keep running away. But he stopped in his track when he saw five figures in the courtyard behind him.

“What is it, Chuuya-san? We have to go!” Tachihara said, hand on his shoulder.

“There are people here?”

“Huh? What are you talking about? There’s no one but us! And that woman behind this door that will kill us if we don’t go!”

Brushing him off, Chuuya realized the five people were not static. Four little figures in traditional white and red _hakama_ was surrounding a taller one, walking toward the large double gate, leaving no footprints on the snow piling above the ground.

The tallest one was certainly a male, with dark hair and graceful limbs, movement almost a whisper of wind as he walked. Chuuya felt like he knew that back as he stepped forward, eyes transfixed as he tried to match that back to something from his memory.

“Dazai?” he breathed when he finally recalled where he has seen it before. The back that has protected his, the back he’s been protecting. There could be no mistake; that shape, that size, the broad shoulder tapering off into slim waist covered by tan coat. Chuuya knew that back more than he knew anyone else’s. The figure turned slightly toward him when he heard his voice.

“Dazai-san?” Tachihara echoed in confusion, looking straight to where the procession was. “What do you mean, Chuuya-san?”

“Don’t you see them?” Chuuya hissed. The man was as shadowy as the rest of the dimension, almost like he was there but not there either. The brown eyes that gazed at him was faded and monochrome, tainted with blue. Chuuya stiffened when his lips opened.

“Red.” The voice that echoed through the space was wispy and soft, reverberating the air with an unreal quality.

Suddenly, color burst in front Chuuya’s eyes. Gasping in shock at the sudden appearance of warmth in the middle of all the pale gloom, he noticed that the light came from his inside pocket. The man shoved his hand into it, closing his hand around something warm and pulsing weakly.

Chuuya breathed in wonder as he stared at the crimson glass butterfly in his grasp, shining vivid crimson, painting the cold world in the color of warmth. When he glanced up again, the procession was gone. No creepy children and no Dazai. Just a barren courtyard and the flurry of snow.  

“Wha—“ Chuuya stared at the butterfly before casting his eyes all over the courtyard again.

“Chuuya-san?” Tachihara called out. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” Chuuya answered honestly. “But they’re all gone.”

Tachihara spared a look to the door and realized that it has stopped shaking, as if the woman with tattoo has disappeared. With surprise, he looked back down to the butterfly and squinted when he realized something.

“Over there,” he pointed to the leftmost tip of the butterfly’s wing. “The light is brightest there.”

Looking down, Chuuya admitted that it is. There seemed like dots of light inside the casing of glass, small fireflies that seemed to gather to one spot. Rotating the butterfly slightly, the brightest spot moved with it, almost like a compass. He shared a look with Tachihara when the realization struck them at the same time.

“You don’t think—“

“We just have to find out.” Chuuya grimly resolved himself and began walking with the butterfly held out in front of him. The creaks of wooden board told him that Tachihara was following closely behind him

Seeing his subordinate shiver, Chuuya glanced at the T-shirt he’s wearing, jacket lost somewhere in their flight. Sighing, he pulled his coat off and threw it at Tachihara’s head. The short-haired man jumped at the sudden obstruction of his vision, hands scrambling to grab the fabric and pull it away from his face.

“Over here,” Chuuya interrupted before Tachihara can even speak.

They managed to get to the large gate, and still the butterfly was pointing them toward the outside. Nodding to Tachihara both of them pressed their bodies to either side of the large wooden gate and pushed, grunting at how heavy the wood was. But it soon creaked under their ministration and opened slightly. They stopped when the opening was large enough for them to slip through.

He let Tachihara slip through first, listening to him grunting and cursing as he folded himself to fit into the hole. Chuuya kept his eyes to the mansion, staring at the doors as if worrying that the woman might appear again, and bringing cloying darkness with her.

“I’m through!” Tachihara shouted.

“Yeah!” Chuuya turned around and stuffed the pulsing glass into his pocket. Frowning to the opening that was barely even a crack.

When he was squeezing himself through it, he heard Tachihara gasp in soft disbelief. “Chuuya-san! Over there--”

“Huh?” Chuuya slid free of the gate and his eyes widened when he saw another IRH, opening in the middle of a walkway lined with stone candle-holders. The two of them shared a look with each other for a moment before they broke into a run toward the portal.

Phasing through the opening, Chuuya took a deep breath, gasping the clear, fresh air like he never breathed before. Doubling over, he placed his hands on his knees, gasping as much oxygen as he could.

The air was clean and he could breathe easy, unlike how the pressing liquid air of the other dimension suffocated him. He could move his limbs without feeling like he’s being dragged down. When he grasped at his hat, miraculously still attached to his head, he could feel a wave of pure relief flooding him when The Tainted Sorrow activated.

Behind him, he could hear a body thudding to the ground.

“We’re alive…” Tachihara breathed in wonder before he broke into a raucous laughter, a little bit insane from the wave of pure relief. Chuuya chuckled, infected by the cheer. He glanced back at the closing portal, from the distance he thought he could see that woman standing by the gate, staring at the portal with her empty eyes right before it disappear into thin air.

“Yeah.” Chuuya exhaled, gripping the glass butterfly still in his palm. A light flashed in front of his eyes and he grunted, too used to the darkness that it was painful. Breathing hard, he scanned their surroundings to find themselves in a room with blinded windows. Brushing away the curtains to the side he peeked out. What he saw made blue eyes widen until he swore it nearly popped out of his head.

“Yo, Michizou. You’re bringing passport?”

“What? No. Why?”

Chuuya knocked on the frosted glass and half-laughed, half-whimpered. “I think we’re in England.”

 

.

.

 

Kunikida woke up before the break of dawn with a hand clutching his notebook. Before he was fully conscious, the blond was already sitting up, other hand groping for his eyeglasses and put it on with a practiced ease.

When he could see the room clearly, he realized what has awakened him from his sleep.

In the blanket of the night, Dazai was sitting up on his futon, gasping for deep breaths after deep breaths as if he’d just been drowning. One of his hands was gripping his right shoulder as if in pain.

“Dazai…?” he tried calling out and when it gave him no reaction, Kunikida crawled through the space separating their futons and touched his shoulder carefully. For a moment he thought he could see a bruise just above the bandages that lined Dazai’s neck, but when he blinked it was gone. “Oi, Dazai?”

Dazai’s head whirled toward him in dizzying speed. But it was the frantic fear in his eyes that made worry bloom violently in the detective’s chest. “Hey, you alright?”

“I—I’m…” Dazai took a gulping breath, curling into himself. Confused as to what to do since he was unused to facing emotions, let alone emotions from his enigma of a partner, Kunikida did the first thing that came to him and rubbed his back.

“What is it?” he asked, with harsh tone, ready to shred apart whatever he said was the reason. 

“Nightmare.” Dazai shook his head and lifted his face to shot Kunikida a small smile, genuine yet shaky. “Thank you, Kunikida-kun. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

And Kunikida understood—their line of work didn’t come with clean conscience. He himself has his own share of terrifyingly vivid nightmares. And if Dazai was truly a member of the Mafia when he was young as he apparently are, then it meant so many horrible things that couldn’t be rectified just by companionship.

“I see.” Kunikida deflated, hand stilled on Dazai’s back. “Don’t worry about those. Dreams can’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dazai chuckled before he moved to get up. “I’m… going to the _onsen_ now.”

“Getting into hot water at this hour will just make you sick.” He nagged, secretly relieved to be able to fall back to the old routine.

“But I really wanted to soak while watching the stars.” Dazai chuckled as he turned to the door.

Sighing, Kunikida stood up. “The _onsen_ was good for my back. I think I would like to go on one more time.”

Dazai blinked in surprised before he grinned. “Well, I won’t mind the companion even if it’s a twenty-two years old with the bone of a hundred and ninety grandpa.”

They bickered about Kunikida’s old man tendency all the way to the hot spring.

.

Meanwhile in a room shrouded by darkness, Chuuya placed the wallet and its content into a box, along with his report over the incident. His hand brushed something cool, drawing his attention to the glass butterfly he took carelessly from that place.

The Executive stared at the glass that now no longer glow with pulsing scarlet. With one last look, he placed it in his pocket and laid down on the floor, going to sleep.

.

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.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nakahara Chuuya Problem Solving 101: If the matter can be settled with a punch, then fucking punch it. 
> 
>  
> 
> “You know Chuu-chuu won’t just stand idle because you said so.” Elise glanced up with a scowl when she realized Mori was staring at her. “What”  
> “Elise-chan…” he breathed out “Try calling me Rin-rin.”  
> She gave him a withered glare. “’Rintarou’ is enough for a good-for-nothing old man like you.”  
> The little girl went to the desk and ate the cake still sitting there while ignoring Mori’s whining.


	2. Paper Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried. I tried to only edit the second chapter but it was just so _bad_ I have to basically rewrite and reconcept the whole thing. 
> 
> So yeah?

_._

_._

_._

???

???

.

.

.

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

Dazai takes in a deep breath.

_One._

The dead cannot return.

 _Two_.

The past cannot be changed.

_Three._

Anything worth living for is ephemeral.

The three concept of reality that taught him how to live. The unchanging compass that never went astray even when the universe tilted on its axis. Be it the Transcendentals or the gods, none can touch the fundamentals which with he lived his life.

But the world was now shaking on its foundation. Like a mirage blown away by wind, like flower petal falling into fire. And all of that not because of gods or the almighty, but because of a large, warm hand holding his.  

Dazai closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth enveloping his hand and traveling up his arm, it filled his chest until he can’t even feel the cold of the snow that fell like monochrome static all around him. If he can just let go now, if he can let himself be dragged under, he can sleeping wrapped in this warmth to never wake. He would be content just like that, on a dreamless space filled with this warmth—

 “Dazai!”

A voice cut through the tranquility. Loud and clear, jarring after the softened edges of Dazai’s world. He turned around to look for the source, unheeding the hand squeezing his like a warning not to.

Behind him a red butterfly hovered on empty air, crimson light spilled from its wings and painted the snow orange. It was vivid and real, the edges sharp and burning his retinas. For a second he was entranced by its light—a warmth he can feel even at a distance, melting the ice crystals clumping his eyelashes.

It reminded him of sunlit days, and of breeze running through each blades of grass in a field. It brought back the memory of someone’s laughter, alive and loud, through a tall wall of grass.

The light spilled and bleed into him, clearing his mind from the static and the noise until the fine details of gold on the butterfly was visible to his eyes.

 “Red.” He whispered and the butterfly disappeared.

.

.

.

Chapter 2

Liar’s Mask

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Yokohama

3:00 PM

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.

 

Tanizaki’s fingers were aching from hours of holding a pen, to the point where every stroke resulted in barely intelligible characters. He’s pretty sure his hand would tremble if he let go of the pen.

Spread on the table in front of him were the books, scrolls and scattered notes they scavenged from the Kuze mansion. They’re all fragile and in bad shapes, on top of being simply unreadable because of the ancient Japanese used in the text. His job was to translate them into modern Japanese, painstakingly writing the explanation of old lingos on the margin, for the rest of the Agency to analyze.

A quiet desperation blanketed the whole agency, restless shuffling of papers and the click of keyboards a constant background hum. A lot of promising clues came out of these documents, and if any of them are the key to cracking this mystery open, Tanizaki will be damned if he delayed finding them just because he’s exhausted. He will rest later when Yokohama is no longer terrorized by the possibility of disappearing in their sleep.

A steaming mug slid into his peripheral view, far enough that there’s no danger of destroying the aged documents but close enough that it caught his attention. From the smell that wafted out, he knew it contained hot chocolate.

“Here you go, Tanizaki-san.”

Tanizaki looked up at Atsushi’s worried face and smiled.

“Ah, thank you, Atsushi-kun.” Tanizaki shot him a smile that warmed up his exhausted face, highlighting the dark sag beneath his eyes.  He reached out for the mug and held it with both hand to hide the tremors and take a sip. Immediately his face brightened. “This is good.”

“Kenji-kun bought it from the mini-market for everyone, I just put in hot water.” Atsushi confessed with a self-deprecating smile, grip tightening on another mug. “You’ve been working for hours non-stop, don’t you think it’s time to take a short break?”

Tanizaki can hear the worry displayed clearly in that request. Something that’s been tightly coiled in his chest loosed. His shoulders drop as he smiled, “Maybe after this one, I think I’m on to something.”

“Really?” There’s hope in Atsushi’s voice as he bent to look at the document Tanizaki’s working on. Atsushi frowned, unable to read the complex characters written meticulously on brown papers.

 “It’s amazing that you can read all this…” he complimented, squinting his eyes as if by doing so the characters will reassemble into something he can actually read.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Tanizaki grinned, rubbing the back of his head shyly. “I just studied a bit of old Japanese before I joined the Agency—there are a lot of people better than me.”

“That’s not true!” A high pitched voice rang out and Tanizaki grunted when his sister slammed into him, the screech of chair legs loud in the otherwise calm office. A few heads turned to look but after confirming it’s just the Tanizaki sibling doing their usual thing, they lost interest.

“Naomi, stop! You’ll damage the document!” Tanizaki protested as he tried to struggle out of his sister’s hold. But like the best of bondages her arms tightened with every futile resistance.

“Nii-san used to take university course on old Japanese Literature, you know?” Naomi explained to Atsushi, ignoring her strangled brother. “He was so good at it! It’s too bad that his Ability restricted him from continuing his studies! Right, Nii-san?”

“That’s a long time ago—and, it’s not my, ability—Naomi please let go.” He whimpered.

“Awww, rejecting me brother? Seems like you need to be punished <3”

Atsushi can only watch as a shiver of horror went through Tanizaki. His face darkened rapidly as Naomi’s hand reached for something utterly inappropriate and _squeeze._  

“Awh, owh, no stop, _stoooop_! Na—Naomi over there is --! Not here! Aggh, aaahn, _ooh_ \---“

Seeing that the two of them won’t stop anytime soon, Atsushi sent them a curt farewell and returned to his desk. He placed down the mug of hot chocolate on his desk and sat down, steadfastly ignoring the rambunctious siblings doing _their thing_ a few desks over.

Atsushi rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the heavy fog of exhaustion. The file Haruno-san compiled about the phenomenon sat on his desk, the edges rumpled from being opened and closed many times over a short period of time. On the first page is a medical document, explaining the three stages of Vanishing.

It will start with a dream of an old Japanese manor, followed by excessive sleepiness. This dream quickly turn into a nightmare filled with ghosts and monsters. All of the victims reported seeing the same winding hallways, the same little girls in red _hakama_ and people in ceremonial robes. Some of them even reported to see each other.

As the symptoms grow worse, the victims will begin to talk about seeing a tattooed woman, corpse-like and emitting pure malice. When they wake up from sleep the victims are plagued by pain that spread from the spot where this woman touched them. Since nothing is actually wrong, this pain is diagnosed to be purely psychosomatic. At this stage, many victims turn to drugs or self-harm to stay awake.

The last stage is a prolonged sleep, and when a victim fell into this point there’s nothing that can wake them up. They will sleep and sleep, and then they would just… disappear. Leaving behind a soot mark on the bed outlining their figure.

The victims can be anyone. The only thing connecting them is that they recently lost someone precious to them, and seemingly chased said person into the manor. Other than that they’re all random samples of the population, the women and men, old and young, criminals and civilians, all of them are potential victim in this case.

Bearing a strong resemblance to the old Japanese mythos of gods and spirits, this phenomenon was dubbed _Spirited Away_ by the masses.

“Atsushi-san?”

Atsushi looked up from the document to see Kenji bounding up to him, arm laden with snacks and sweets after his latest trip to the mini market down the road. A big, shining smile beamed his way as Kenji stopped in front of his desk.

“Oh, hey Kenji-kun. Anything I can help?”

“Do you know where I’m supposed to put away all of this?” Kenji asked, lifting two frankly humongous plastic bags. “I wanted to ask Ranpo-san since these are his snacks, but he’s not here.”

“Yeah.” Atsushi’s eyes slid to the side, remembering how Ranpo absolutely refused to come out of his room after the president departed for Okinawa with Kyouka in tow. “He’s in a difficult mood right now.”

“I see. I bet he will feel better with this!” Kenji rummaged through one of the plastic bag and came out with a bag of something yellow and garishly titled _Chiki Balls_. From his smile, Atsushi thought something must be special about this particular snack, but staring at the yellow chicken mascot doesn’t jog his memories. 

“Uh… this is?” Atsushi accepted the snack, flipping it over to look at the content table. Oh…that’s a lot of MSG.

“It’s Ranpo-san’s favorite snack! It’s so rare nowadays that this is a miracle!”

“I see.”

Maybe with this they can bait them out. Kenji has no manipulative bone in him, so Atsushi can be sure about his intention of making the senior detective happy. But Atsushi’s mind already whirred about how to use it to lure Ranpo out of his room and into the office.

At that moment, Kunikida stood up, shoving notebooks and recorders into a messenger bag like a man with a critical mission.  

“Are you going somewhere, Kunikida-san?” Kenji asked as the older man slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m going to interview someone.” Kunikida answered curtly.

“An interview?” Atsushi’s brows furrowed. “With who?”

“A photographer named Kurosawa Rei. Dazai sent me an email about her, it seems like she’s been investigating the Vanishing even before the outbreak. We might get something from her.”

“Dazai-san did?” Atsushi asked with hope in his eyes and he shot up to his feet “Ah, should I come too?” At the request, Kunikida’s eyes turn to him and fell to the bag of snack still clutched in his hand.

“Is that Chiki Balls?” He asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Yes! I found them, Kunikida-san!” Kenji said cheerfully. In answer to that the senior detective nodded seriously.

“Brat, you and Kenji return to the dorm and get Ranpo-san out of his room. We need him to solve this case.”

The two juniors chorused their agreement as Kunikida walked out in a brisk pace.

Atsushi looked at Kenji and smiled warmly, “Shall we go too?”

Kenji nodded enthusiastically.

.

.

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London

7:00 AM

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.

 

A pebble clicked against paved street, the sound of its impact drowned by the buzz of early London crowd.

Early morning in the capital city of England was something else compared to Yokohama. Where there would be cold onshore breeze coming up, there’s only the air current generated by the passing vehicles. Even the sound of seagulls was replaced by the whistle of airplanes.

There’s even some of those red telephone booth straight out of a superhero movie. But unlike the grand red one Superman flew out of, the one Chuuya was perusing consist more of rust than paint. He worried that using its service would make it crumble into dust.

But right now, he can’t think about such a trivial matter when he had to try his best to _not_ look like he’s cowering in his great coat and was almost in tears to the people passing by. It’s a good thing that the booth is practically pressed to a building so no one can see the latter happening.

“I _just_ ordered you to not go into an IRH. Why are you so eager to disobey, Chuuya-kun?” Boss’ disappointed, chiding voice came from the other side. A hot flush of shame went through the Executive, stifling him in his own skin.

“I know—I—there’s no excuse to this I’m sorry.” Chuuya answered, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mori sighed on the other side, the sound like a cold wash crashing down Chuuya’s spine. “You act first when something happen and most of the time that is not a bad thing. However, only 13 came back out of 127 Lost. Were you even thinking about how to come back after you find the Black Lizard Commander? ” There’s steel under the boss’ voice, a coldness reserved for those who disappointed him greatly and this is the first time Mori deemed him deserving of that tone. Chuuya hunched deeper into his black coat.

“I—no.” Chuuya answered honestly, seeing no reason to lie when the boss can detect one immediately.  

There was silence for a moment before Mori continued, “Devotion to those beneath you is a good thing, Chuuya-kun. However you must keep in mind that as an Executive you are far less replaceable. With you position and responsibility as a whole, do you really think it was right for you to abandon your post and your men for one subordinate?”

Chuuya fell silent.

After a sufficient amount of time Mori continued, knowing his underling has marinated in guilt for long enough, “I’ll arrange for someone to take you back to Japan. Be good and don’t cause more trouble, Chuuya-kun.”

A few minutes later, Chuuya replaced the handle and stumbled out of the booth to where Tachihara is waiting. His subordinate’s crouching with his back to a wall, phone dangling from one hand with a look of pure despair written on his face.

“Hirotsu-san replied?” Chuuya asked.

“Yes.” Tachihara answered thinly, voice barely above an exhale of fear.

Chuuya thunked his head on the wall and groaned. “Great. Okay, so, good news we’re going back to Japan by midnight. Bad news is, Boss’ gonna air-dry my intestine on HQ rooftop.”

“Well, Hirotsu-san’s gonna gouge out my eyes and tie me up as piñata to make an example for other idiots.” Tachihara slumped back to the wall. “At least we’re going to suffer together.”

“Ah hell. What a mess.” Chuuya sighed. He pulled out his phone when it chimed and groaned when he saw a message from Kouyou. Definitely another lecturing coming his way, this time from his mentor.

“Midnight is what, 14 hours away?” Tachihara moaned with the voice of a dying animal. “Delaying death is great, but what’re we supposed to do for so long?”

Chuuya decided to ignore the message for now and flipped around to lean his back on the wall, flapping his hand at the crowd “I don’t know. Wanna try picking up some chicks as last supper before we’re transferred to the butcher’s?”

“Nah, west chick’s not up my alley. Too much fluff, not enough edges. I’ll stick to Japanese.”

“Like Gin?”

“Yes, like Gi—Chuuya-san, no!” Tachihara exclaimed, aghast like Chuuya suggested chopping his own arms.

Chuuya smiled, bemused at the reaction “Why not?”

“Gin will kill me, her brother’s going to mince what’s left, and _then_ the Hirotsu-san will burn me to ashes for abandoning the Black Lizard for a stupid reason.” Tachihara wrung a hand and faked a shudder. “If I’m not dead now, I’m definitely are if I try.”

 “Well, Gin is already waiting for you back in Japan.” Chuuya quipped, trying not to smirk at the glimpse of hope in Tachihara’s eyes.

“Really?” He said breathily

“Yeah. I asked her to prepare a slot in the torture room.” Chuuya said, pointing at Tachihara’s face. “Specially reserved for you, man.”

Tachihara stared up at him with wide, watery, betrayed eyes. “Chuuya-saaaan”

“Cram it, be grateful that I got Gin to do this. You prefer if I relegate the punishment to Hirotsu-san instead?.” Chuuya said drily.  At the terror that flashed through Tachihara’s face he snorted, “Thought so.”

A shudder went through Tachihara. “Ugh, thanks. I’ll survive Gin but Hirotsu-san? Nuh-uh.  I’ll be three quarters dead after he’s through.”  

 “Oh, come on.” Chuuya punched Tachihara’s bicep good-naturedly. “It’s not gonna be as bad as Ace’s torture chamber for that botched opium shipment.”

Tachihara felt a rush of shivers just at the reminder of Ace’s dark, vengeful glare at him because of the economical _nightmare_ that error resulted.

“Good thing that bastard’s dead.” Tachihara groaned at the memory, “He was a demon, I’m telling ya. Survived that only because you grabbed me and bolted when he brought out chainsaw on me. _Chainsaw._ ”

“Aw, he never meant to do you any harm, princess. Just scare you a tiny-weeny bit to make sure it never happened again.” Chuuya shot back with a wink. Tachihara snorted in disbelief.

“Sure. And the scars are just a reminder yea?”

“What, think it’s not badass enough?”

“And have a body riddled with scars like you, Chuuya-san? I’ll pass.”

“Hey!” Chuuya tried to go for his Angry Executive voice, but the effect was broken by how his exclamation dissolved into laughter as he playfully swatted Tachihara’s head, the latter ducking down to avoid the hit.

The quick movement made something behind Tachihara’s jacket poke out and almost fall. Frantic, he straightened up and caught the wallet before it fell.

Chuuya eyed the innocuous little thing. “Still there huh?”

“Yeah.” Tachihara sighed, throwing the wallet to the air and catching it. Chuuya can feel the glass butterfly on the jacket of his coat, an unfamiliar weight where his third phone used to sit. He stared at his subordinate from the corner of his eyes,

“I’m an idiot aren’t I Chuuya-san.”

“Which time are we talking about now? Because you’re _always_ a moron.”

“This time I’m prime moron. Executive Moron.” Tachihara sighed, throwing the wallet up and catching it. “Thought that if I just try hard enough maybe I can get some of them back. Not just Yamamichi and Shiro, but also Taka’s kid and his wife. Maybe Chihiro’s husband too. But all I did was screw things up.”

 “True, yeah, you really screwed up this time.” Chuuya plucked it out of the air the next time Tachihara sent it up.

“Yea.” Tachihara agreed glumly and crouched, folding his arms over his knees. “Funny, huh? I played hero but ended up getting my ass saved from fire. Sorry to put you through this, Chuuya-san.”

“Dude, at least you’re alive.”

“And they’re probably dead by now.”

Chuuya rubbed the tip of his nose as the conversation tapered off with Tachihara scowling at the pavement. He’s not good at this part—the share-a-drink-and-lend-a-shoulder part of camaraderie; at least not the shoulder to cry on part. Usually he’d either take them out to get shit-faced drunk or down to another mission to clear their mind. Kicking asses does wonder to one’s peace of mind.  

They can’t do any of that now. Chuuya narrowed his eyes and rubbed the fine material of the wallet. Not unless…

A light bulb went off above them, a spluttering streetlight that made Tachihara looked up with question.

“Hey, you ever hear of IRHs opening anywhere else other than Yokohama?”

Tachihara looked up at him in confusion and they stared at each other for a while until he muttered “I’m not in the investigation detail, so I don’t know.”

“Well, _I_ am and let me tell you that never happened but here we are, in the land of gentlemen with canes.” Chuuya, holding up the wallet. “And that tattooed bitch only appeared after we said this guy’s name right?”

“Isn’t that just coincidence?” Tachihara asked, standing up.

“This kind of thing is like fishing. We might end up with frog food but sometimes,” he waved the wallet in front of his subordinate. “we might be able to find the sardine’s lair and catch a whole lot of them.”

“Does sardines have lair?”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s a shitty metaphor.”

Chuuya wacked him over the head with the wallet.

“Shut up.” He grumbled. “So, wa’ddya think? Wanna see if this guy is salmon or sardine?”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s not like we have anything better to do till’ midnight. Consider it an adventure.” The smirk Chuuya shot to him was answered by a twitch of Tachihara’s lips, spirit lifted by the confidence.

“Sure, we have time to kill anyway.” Tachihara chuckled, feeling lighter already.

“Good. And if this guy is apparently important, well, we won’t come back empty-handed.” Chuuya slapped the wallet to Tachihara’s chest with a grin.

“How are we going to do this?”

Chuuya cocked his head to the side and answered, “we kill two birds with one stone. I know someone, let’s go.”

They both kicked off the wall and walked down the street, easily blending in with the people.

“I wonder why we didn’t bump into anyone in there.” Tachihara quipped up after a moment, folding his arms behind his head in a gesture of relaxation. “I mean, the shitty special OPs should be all around the damn place, right? That hole being Ability-based and all.”

Chuuya glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and scoffed “Right now, only the Organization knows about them.”

“Wait really?” Tachihara asked in bewilderment, arms falling to his side as he stared at Chuuya’s profile “Not even the government?”

“You need’ta wax your ear, man? Big brother’s still busy with a south asian-based terrorist group with Ability Users—they would have no time to care about a string of disappearances in one city.”

“Then, the Asshole Defective Agency? They’re pretty good at sniffing out stuff right?”

“Dude, we have like, what, a hundred thousand men in Yokohama? Yeah, even _we_ have problem with finding those damn IRHs to go all detective on. Armed Agency have, what, thirteen?” Chuuya scoffed. “Like hell they can find one.”

“Yeah.” Tachihara’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Stupid question here, but why don’t we just tell ‘em?”

“Knowing the boss, he wanted to use it as leverage.” The Executive smirked. “Information is power after all.”  

“Whoa…” Tachihara deflated. “Asshole move right there.”

Chuuya’s eyes gleamed sharply as he turned to look at Tachihara who froze up, realizing his misstep.

“You got a problem with the boss?” Chuuya asked lowly, eyes serious in a snap.

“No, nononono,” Tachihara backpedal as fast as humanly possible, chuckling nervously and waving his hands in front of his eyes to dissuade the coldness radiating off his superior. “I just—I mean—y’know, pointing out facts? Not that I have any intention on betraying him or anything! Chuuya-san you know me!”

Chuuya’s mouth opened, possibly for a long berating about watching his mouth when it comes to anything that might be considered traitorous intent, but he suddenly stopped and looked to the side.

With a speed that made him almost invisible, Chuuya darted to an alleyway, dragging Tachihara with him by the lapel of his jacket and slammed him into a wall. The Executive pinned him there with an arm and Tachihara was too out of it in panic to realize he’s looking out of the alleyway into the crowd.

 “I’m sorry, Chuuya-san, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me! The boss is good, he’s great and I really, really like him! I’ll lick his shoes clean if you want me to!” he babbled.

“Sssh! Shut up you idiot!” Chuuya hissed, shoving his hand to Tachihara’s mouth.

Chuuya stared out into the crowd. Curious, Tachihara followed his gaze to a couple of men in black suits, walking with a familiar stride of a combatant.

He said something, muffled by Chuuya’s hand. His superior shot him an exasperated gaze and let him go so he can ask, “Who’re they?”

“Look at the emblem on their tie.” Chuuya nodded to the men in suits. “They’re members of the Order of Clock Tower. We’re here without credentials—it’s gonna get real messy if we’re found out.”

Tachihara squinted at the men as they walked away. Suddenly one of them stopped in his track and even through the black sunglasses Tachihara felt the man looking straight at them.

“Shit, they saw us.” Chuuya hissed, jerking Tachihara away by his collar when the two men began advancing to the alley. “Run for it.” He hissed and the two sprinted into the alleyway, careful to minimize the noise and letting darkness cloak them.

It’s a familiar run, the wind slapping their faces and the feet slapping against the ground. Chuuya jumped past a pile of garbage and turned to another alley, this one narrower and damp.

Just behind them they can hear footsteps chasing after them abnormally fast. _Some kind of speed-enhancing ability?_ Tachihara thought to himself right before Chuuya grabbed him around the waist and tightly said, “Hold on, and don’t scream.”

Which were both an easy and a difficult thing. As Chuuya jumped off the alley and used the tight space between two buildings to jump between one and the other and climb to the top, Tachihara’s arm flung around him by instinct and the _don’t scream_ part almost got lost before Tachihara clacked his teeth shut to muffle his shouts and turn them into whimpers.

They landed on the roof where Chuuya finally let him go, hitting the concrete when his knees gave out beneath him. Tachihara rolled around a bit to grief his life choices.

“They’re here.” Chuuya peeked down as the two men ran right past their place on the rooftop.

“Gone?”

“Gone.” Chuuya sighed. “Now let’s hope we don’t have to deal with any of them again.”

“How did they find us?” Tachihara grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his mouth to fend off what felt tasted like bile on the back of his tongue.

“Guy with shades’ probably a Detector. Damn useful Ability, good thing this building seemed to be out of his influence range.” Chuuya said.

“They’re gotta be looking for us now, how are we supposed to go with them sniffing around?”

“Well,” Chuuya said and picked Tachihara up and sling him across his waist like a disobedient puppy. “There’s always the rooftop route.”

“Noooooo” Tachihara groaned, squirming in the hold until he slumped, practically folded in two with Chuuya’s arm across his middle.  

“Oh cram it. The rooftops’ safer, there’s less cameras and the Order can’t detect us. Ready? Go.” He said and jumped off without pausing even a moment to let Tachihara answer.

.

The two of them landed in the border between the city and the slums.

Tachihara swayed where he stood after being put down, ready to keel over or puke, whichever comes first at this point. Chuuya himself looked particularly unruffled by the rough journey, fixing his hat and waited for his subordinate to finish gagging.

“Uuuugh, remind me to never go around with you again, Chuuya-san.” Tachihara grumbled when he returned to a resemblance of lucidity and stumble along as Chuuya picked up a quick pace, walking deeper into the slums.

“Oh come on, dude. It was just some wind.” Chuuya answered flippantly.

Tachihara rolled his eyes at that answer, hard.  

London’s slums are unlike Yokohama’s. For one the buildings lining the streets seemed like they could be beautiful under the right care. But here, they’re all riddled with graffiti and their walls weathered.

People stared when they passed. Between Tachihara’s scowl and the confidence Chuuya emitted, on top one of them being well-dressed and out-of-place, they draw the interest of the people around. They eyed the two of them like a particularly tasty piece of meat, one woman who smoked something not cigarette even cat called them.

Ignoring the hooligans, they kept walking for a while until Chuuya stopped in front of a three story building, the kind with rusted window sills and a few broken doors

 “Here we are.” Chuuya said, motioning to the building.

“Oh, what a humble abode.” Tachihara mumbled and followed Chuuya climbing a rusted stairs that creaked with every steps. People slumped along the corridor and beneath the stairs, maybe drunk, maybe high, maybe dead—none of them are sticking around to investigate.  

When they reached the second floor, Chuuya motioned to one of the door on the end of the corridor. Nodding, Tachihara wordlessly slip past him and lightly jogged to the door. He tried the handle first and when it won’t budge even with a firm jiggling, Tachihara pulled out a slim knife and slipped it to the crack between the door and the wall. Feeling around, he slid them down and smiled victoriously when he managed to disengage the lock.

He opened the door, just in time for Chuuya to reach him and walk straight into the room like he owned the property, Tachihara following closely behind.

The difference between the world outside and the apartment was clear the moment they stepped in. It was musty, smelling like trash, alcohol and piss. There’s not much light to go around with the windows boarded up messily and the light socket is empty of bulbs. The apartment was tiny, barely a hole in the wall, with only a low table, a beaten-up loveseat and sofa half-buried in quilts and food remnants, the tiled floor sticky with something gross.

Tachihara opened his mouth to pipe up like an annoying fuck but stopped when he felt another presence in the room. He whirled around right on time to see a man darting from behind the door with a roar and a metal bat swinging toward them.

Side-stepping the clumsy attack, Tachihara used the man’s own momentum to knee him in the guts. The guy almost damn well flew across the room with how thin he was.

 “Michizou.” Chuuya drawled as he sat down on the loveseat, managing to look dangerous and confident in this kind of place as he crossed his legs. “Don’t hurt him.”

Tachihara nodded and advanced on the man who stared at him with red eyes filled with fear.

“Who are you people? What do you want with me?” the man suddenly shouted, high and thin like a beaten dog.

 “The name’s Nakahara Chuuya.” He jerked his thumb at Tachihara, “That’s my underling.”

The man’s eyes widened at the Japanese that spewed from Chuuya’s mouth. As if electrocuted, he scrabbled on the tiled floor until his back hit the wall and huddled there. Tachihara would be more sympathetic at the pitiful display if the man hadn’t tried to bash their head in a moment ago.

“No! No! You’re not taking me back! I’m not going back to that place!” he shouts and scratched the walls like he can make a way out by gouging out the concrete with his nails.

Chuuya sighed softly and stood up, crouching in front of the man whose emancipated body trembled in fear.

“Calm down, Doyle.” Chuuya said in a low, even voice. “We’re not here to take you back.”

“Liar!” He jabbed his finger at Chuuya. “T-that vermin—he told you to come here right? You lot are the same, the same! All of you bloody murderers and rapists!” he hissed with wild eyes.

Chuuya shook his head. “Look, I’m an Executive and the second man of the Organization. If anything, Ace was my underling, okay?”

That seemed to placate the man some but his eyes were still distrustful, “So what?” he laughed, deranged. “You’re here to use me yourself? Lost the list and want me to—to return to that hell, this time with cookies?”

“Nah.” Chuuya stood up and walked across the room, back to the sofa and motioned for Tachihara to stand behind the chair. With the distance and the assurance, Doyle seemed like he finally breathed again.

“Why are you here then?” he asked.

“To make a deal with you.” Chuuya said

“Oh no, no not making anymore deals with demons. Had enough of hell already.” He roughly swiped his hand to Chuuya’s direction, like he thought Chuuya’s right in front of him in range for a good slap.

“In exchange for this favor, I’ll protect you from the Mafia. In fact, let’s sweeten the deal. Let’s say I can get you out of here and into someplace better, along with some money to… continue your vice.” Chuuya nodded to the low table in front him, filled with empty syringes and lines of white powders.

Doyle eyed him suspiciously. Seeing the look, Chuuya smirked. “You don’t have to worry, this request is mine alone—a personal venture without the Mafia’s backing. As you know as an Executive I can erase any evidence we ever met at all.”

Green eyes flicked around the dumpster where he’s staying and Doyle frowned. “What kind of place do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking somewhere coastal, maybe Blackpool. Drugs are easy to come by there and I can get you a nice apartment with great view. I hear sunrises there are one of the best.”

“What do you want in return?” Doyle asked, slowly unfurling from the tight ball he curled up in, a spooked turtle peeking out at the smell of food.

“Here.” Chuuya pulled out the picture of the blonde woman out of Lewis’ wallet. “I just want to know about this woman and a man named Lewis Caroll.”

Chuuya handed the photograph to Tachihara who took it across the room and handed it to a confused Doyle.

“Lewis?” He mumbled. “That name… I think I heard about it somewhere…”

“You do?” Chuuya straightened in his seat.

“Yeah, I—yeah. I think he was… was an Ability user? Think I heard of him before—with the Clock Tower?” He gulped, eyes unfocusing as if trying to remember. “Can’t—I don’t—“

“That’s okay, don’t force yourself.” Chuuya shook his head. “What about the woman?”

Doyle squinted at him and was silent for a moment before snapping back and looking down at the photograph. There was a prolonged silence as Doyle hold the photograph on trembling fingers, drawing it closer and closer to his eyes.

Tachihara cleared his throat as silently as he can to catch Chuuya’s attention. He asked with his eyes _what the fuck_. Chuuya answered with an equally eloquent _Yeah, fuck._

The two of them snapped their head to Doyle when the man suddenly gasped loud like he hadn’t been breathing. “Alice.” He said and coughed.

“Alice?” Chuuya repeated. “Is that the woman?”

“Yes—she’s Alice. Alice. Alice Caroll.” Doyle said shaking his head, his eyes seemed empty as he rambled. “Ability: White Rabbit. Usage: nullification of other Ability. Restriction: only applicable to someone wearing the other half of a sapphire earring the ability user is wearing—“

“Shit.” Chuuya hissed and jumped to his feet. He dropped in front of Doyle and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. “Doyle? Doyle! It’s me, snap out of it!”

His words have no effect as Doyle kept mumbling with unfocused eyes, body shaking horribly. People’s name, Ability names—

“Ace is dead!” Chuuya shouted, shaking Doyle’s shoulder once more.

Doyle stopped and abruptly fell silent. Before Tachihara can breathe a sigh of relief, Doyle’s hands shot up to grab Chuuya’s forearm with a strength betraying his thinness.

“How?” He asked hoarsely, looking into Chuuya’s eyes with a mad glint in his eyes, flickering in and out of focus. “How did that vermin die?”

Chuuya pressed his lips to a line and answered, “Idiot got conned into killing himself.”

Doyle loosened his hold, enough for Chuuya to pull back. Doyle stared time to see Doyle’s back bowed as he laughed and slammed his hand to the floor.

“Killed himself—killed himself!” he choked out between laughing gasping and sobbing. “After all he did to me—after all he did! He killed—killed himself, and that’s that?” His head shot up to look at Chuuya, green irises bright as tears fell “that’s that?”

“That’s that.” Chuuya confirmed gravely.

Doyle shook and limply fell to the ground on a pitiful heap and began to sob, an ugly sound that dragged out everything he has in his lungs.

.

“Who was that, Chuuya-san?” Tachihara asked as they walked down the stairs, leaving behind the apartment.

“Arthur Conan Doyle, used to be with the special service.” Chuuya sighed, taking off his hat to comb his red hair with gloved fingers. “Never gotten around to placing him somewhere better. Finally got a reason to fish him out of that dumpster and into someplace with actual bed.”

“What happened to him?”

Chuuya fell silent at that question, kicking some garbage bag out of his way dispassionately. “How do you think Ace got his hands on a list of every living Ability Users?”

Tachihara reached the bottom of the stairs, face twisting in sympathy. “Shit. Poor guy.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s not like Ace was exactly the worst in the Organization, but that bastard just don’t know when to stop beating people up and start rewarding them for once.” Chuuya said, a smirk crawling up his lips far too slowly. “He’s a slow moron.”

And Tachihara understood that sentiment. As one of the commander of Black Lizard, he did things far worse than just breaking one man. He once killed a man’s family in front of him, sold children to the highest bidder, putting drugs on kid’s hands.

But as much as he’s a sinner with a slot in the deepest pit hell specifically tagged with his name, Chuuya, the acting right-hand man of the boss, must have done things far, far worse than him.

Neither of them was able to condemn Ace for what he has done. But that doesn’t mean seeing the truth of what their job do to other people wasn’t a hard pill to swallow.  

 “For now we got to look for the picture of this Lewis. Now where can we find that?” Chuuya chewed his lips.

“Do you think the London branch would have a copy? Ace’s list did get sent here right?”

Chuuya stared at him. And then he blinked.

Soon they were crammed inside the same red telephone booth Chuuya used a few hours ago, both grumbling unhappily at the lack of space.

Armed with the telephone number, Chuuya dialed the number for the Organization’s London branch and listed off the information he got from the wallet’s content. A few minutes later and they walked out with an address, still slightly grumpy from the heat of being cramped together.

“I can’t believe the guy is actually handsome.” Tachihara groaned.

“The problematic ones usually are.” Chuuya said, tucking the wallet back to the inside pocket of Tachihara’s jacket, ignoring his subordinate’s grumbling of _am I not problematic enough_. “We got his address to boot. Now we just have to return to Doyle and ask what’s this guy ability is… well, if he’s already lucid that is.”

“Okay.” Tachihara stopped on a crossroad. The sun is directly above them although they are shielded from it heat by the clouds rolling in. Tachihara squinted at the crowd that passed by.

Chuuya glanced up and stared at the red light, watching as it blink red then green. On the other side, a faint reflection of black can be seen. He narrowed his eyes, gloved hands twitching.

With his eyes he motioned for Tachihara to follow him and they blended into a large crowd waiting for the time to cross the street. Chuuya lowered his voice so he can’t be heard over the crowd,

“You go to the Mori Corp branch. There should be people who can speak Japanese there.” Chuuya told him. The tone he used was an order. “I asked them to dig up more about Lewis Caroll. Grab what they found and stay there until the jet comes. If I’m not back by then, leave and report to the boss.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Just trust me and go.” Chuuya whispered urgently.

Tachihara nodded and walked with the crowd, putting up his hoodie to blend in.

After making sure his subordinate was out of sight, Chuuya slipped into an alleyway and ran up the wall to reach the rooftop. Careful of being seen, he jumped from one to the other. The blur of black and glints of metal not lost on him.

He touched down on top of Doyle’s apartment complex and went down into the room. Unlike the first time there was no emancipated man attacking with poorly handled metal bat, instead a blonde woman sat on a pristine white chair and sipping tea. A juxtaposition with the rest of the room—an angel visiting hell.

Her brilliant eyes were sharp and smile sly when she saw Chuuya entering, closing the door behind him.

 “Good afternoon, gentleman of the Port Mafia.” She said smoothly. Chuuya grinned, an expression closer to grimace than a smile.

“If it isn’t the famed Agatha Christine.” Chuuya said in a mockingly polite tone, bowing to the woman who hides any displeasure expertly. “What a pleasure to meet you here.”

“Oh, you have always been a charmer, Executive Nakahara. It’s a pity your cute subordinate can’t join us.” Christine said sweetly and raised a dainty hand. A test of aggression.

“I must say, putting snipers on my head and my subordinate is quite a way to send an invitation for tea.” Chuuya said and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles. Agatha smiled at the display of cooperation.

Chuuya knew he’s treading on thin ice here, so when the woman offered him tea he sat down and watched as she poured him straight from the pot. There’s no way to discern if the cup is poisoned without attracting her ire, so Chuuya has no choice but to count on his lucky star.  

“So, what brings an Executive of the Port Mafia of Japan here?” She asked as she placed the cup in front of him.

Chuuya stared at her for a second before smiling and pulling out his phone, displaying the picture of Lewis Caroll they dug up. “We’re here for him.”

Agatha’s eyes were sharp with something like surprise when she saw the man in the picture. Ah, an acquaintance. “And what do you have to do with him?”

“Before that,” Chuuya pulled the phone back into his breast pocket, “where is Doyle?”

“As it is stated in the law, every Ability User within the realm of England is under the jurisdiction of the Order. In fact, we must thank you, Executive, for leading us to him. How should we know that such a talented man live here in this… unsavory abode if not for you?”

“Well, you might be able to if you were actually looking at the right place and not just where your enemies are interested in.” Chuuya said with a hint of teeth, quickly covered up by sipping the tea.

Agatha chuckled and they drank in silence. When the tea ran out, both of them rose from their seats and the two men in black suit Chuuya remembered from that morning came in, they eyes glowing purple.

“I’m afraid you must come with us.” Agatha said as she brushed imaginary dust off her skirt. “There is a high price for an illegal entry of Ability Users to England, I hope you know that.”

“I do, miss Agatha.”  Chuuya smirked, challenging despite the tension in his posture, ready to snap at the first provocation. “Lead the way.”

 

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???

???

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It’s cold.

The man opens his eyes to a world of ice and snow. The clouds above writhes like white-bellied dragon, casting shadows that laugh all around him. Frigid wind slaps his face and froze his fingers, turning every exhale into fog.

He can’t remember why he is here, but he knew he has to be here for something. A sense of purpose fills his chest, the same way it did fifteen years ago when his katana used to be stained with blood.

When his eyes got used to the darkness’ sneer, he saw behind the curtain of snow a sprawling shadow of a building. It radiated cold, something even more intense than the snow falling on his exposed face.

On the front gate there was the a familiar figure, still as if waiting for something.

The man’s feet moved on their own accord toward that gate. His stride quickened with every steps. The rhythm of his heart.

It was then that the manor gate opened, spilling tendrils of black to caress the other figure’s cheek. The darkness took shape as two pairs of hands, congealing into two people, drawing that figure into their arms.

From a faraway memory the man knew. He knew. Of the genius detective and his brilliant wife, and their wayward son. Alive when his parents are dead.

The man knew that if he run, if he pump his heart to fit the drum of war, he would be there just in time to drag that young man back from the arms of the darkness that beckoned him.

But for a flash he saw that child smiling as his parent drew him deeper, shielding him from the cold of the blizzard raining on earth. All he ever wanted was for that young boy he met years ago to be safe and happy. For him to have a place to belong and people to protect him as he utilize his gift.

What right does he have to this away from him?

As he thought that, the space all around him began to crack, darkness slithering in from the fissures and it swallowed him whole. As the unending blackness enveloped him, eating away the scenery of white and black into void, he could hear Ranpo’s laughter and clung to it as if that would be the last.

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Okinawa

18:00

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Fukuzawa woke up to the slanted sunlight that fell on his face, birds chirping cheerily just outside the window of his borrowed room. As he straightened up on the chair where he has fallen asleep, he realized that the spot on the table where he just laid his head was wet with splotches of tears.

With confusion he rubbed his own face free from the traces of it left on his cheeks. What has he been dreaming to evoke emotions so strong it broke his mental barrier? Faintly he remembered snow and a gate but anything beyond that shattered from his memory when he reached for them.

A knock on the door jolted him up, straightening on his desk as he called out “Come in.”

The door opened to Kyouka, the click of her geta against the floor soothing as he approached him with a phone in her grasp. The bunny strap swung hypnotically as he reached out to offer it to the president.

“From Kunikida-san.” She said with a calm voice. “He said it’s about Ranpo-san.”

“I see. Thank you.” Fukuzawa said as he accepted the phone, placing it against his ear as Kyouka walked out of the room, obi swishing behind her as she turned back and closed the door.

“Ranpo-san is gone.”


End file.
